


Weapons Not Allowed

by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)



Series: Vagrant Story Ficbits [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Non-binary Tonks, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triple Drabble, look i'm sorry but there's no teddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 19:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/mako_lies
Summary: The war lingers, even once it's over. Remus and Tonks make do.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Series: Vagrant Story Ficbits [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535234
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Weapons Not Allowed

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "weapons not allowed," lifted from Vagrant Story. Tonks's pronouns are they/them. 
> 
> Notes: this work contains allusions to PTSD.

Tonks holds out their wand upon returning home from work, smile crooked on a face Remus hasn’t seen before. Chiseled, masculine features. A full red mouth. The grey eyes are the same. Remus tucks the wand away.

“Thanks, love,” they murmur, even as they bury themself into his arms.

Today, a barrel-chested form, short enough Remus can rest his chin on the top of Tonks’s head. Stresssweat reeks thick off them, metallic, a scent he cannot hold them tight to banish. Still, Remus tries.

(_Tonks had taken a corner too quick. Confused Remus for Work._ _Pain. A shout—_Now, a shiny scar, far gentler than his others. The mild, hot stink of shame whenever they saw it. This is perhaps their ugliest compromise.)

“You smell like wolfsbane,” Tonks observes.

They lean up for a kiss, and how Tonks can stand the taste—love it, if they’re to be believed—Remus cannot fathom, but he can indulge. He kisses Tonks sweet, amends for the bitterness that clings to his tongue. The bitterness of surrendering their wand at the door.

A wand is a weapon only when made to be one. Tonks cannot make it something else, yet. The war’s ghosts are persistent, and their job only worsens the haunting. Mad-Eye trained Tonks well—constant vigilance isn’t a technique, it’s a lifestyle.

“Will you let me stay, this time?” Tonks asks, as they always ask.

The full moon looms. Potion sticks heavy in his throat. To have Tonks, tucked against his side, fingers running through his fur—

“Ask me on the day,” is all he can say.

(But until Tonks can be trusted with their wand, how then can they be trusted with a werewolf? Even one wearing a sheep’s skin of tameness?)

Remus holds Tonks tighter.

There are still monsters here.


End file.
